


Safe House

by rosewindow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3914278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewindow/pseuds/rosewindow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Sam rest - or don't - after missions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe House

**Author's Note:**

> Written for evil-wears-a-bow on tumblr for the Sam/Steve Exchange 2015. I hope you enjoy it!

Steve has been home about two days since his last mission. All but one of his phones is off and he’s reading _Fahrenheit 451_ while he heals up - even he can’t shake off broken ribs that quickly. Natasha had dropped him off before vanishing, and a friend of Clint’s (also named Hawkeye) had stopped by, but otherwise Steve hasn’t seen anyone in days and he’s going stir-crazy.

There’s a thump in his backyard and he thinks, ‘Good. Maybe I’ll get to punch something.’

He creeps to the back of the house, knife in hand. His neighbor’s porch light glints on metal and Steve readies himself to fight. Then the figure steps more fully into the light and all the tension drains from Steve’s body.

“Sam!” he says, throwing the door open.

“Hey man.”

Sam makes his way into the kitchen, shedding wings and red spandex as he goes. Steve puts on the kettle and goes to dig out a pair of sweats and a tshirt for Sam.

“Really, Rogers?” Sam smirks when he catches the ‘I <3 NY’ shirt.

“Beggars can’t be choosers. It’s that or Nat’s ‘In Soviet Russia...’ shirt.”

Sam shakes his head. “No Russians, thank you. I had to help Clint resolve an issue with the Russian mob; never again. It’s ruined borscht for me.”

Steve chuckles and hands Sam a mug of tea. “Did Clint get away okay?”

“Yeah. He’s holing up with Nat; his landlord’s terrified of her.”

Steve laughs and one of his ribs twinges. He makes a face and Sam looks up in concern. “It’s nothing. An explosion blew me through a wall, my ribs are just cracked.”

“‘Just cracked,’” Sam scoffs. “Alright, Rogers.”

He stretches languidly, letting his shirt ride up. “Well, if I’d known you were out of commission I might have crashed somewhere else.”

“Oh really?” Steve says, hooking a finger in Sam’s waistband. “I’ll show you, old man.”

Sam snorts and takes a step back, stretching open the borrowed pants. “What year were you born again?”

He shimmies a little and the sweats slip lower on his hips. Just before they fall completely, Steve steps into Sam and captures his lips. He goes slow at first. Sam seems fine, but he was just on a mission and Steve doesn’t want to push him too far if he’s injured or tired. Sam gets tired of that real quick.

“You’re the one with the cracked ribs,” he grumbles against Steve’s mouth. “Kiss me like you mean it.”

Steve will take that challenge. He hooks an arm around Sam’s waist and lifts him up onto the kitchen counter. Sam narrowly avoids smacking his head on the cabinets, but he locks his legs around Steve’s hips and keeps him close. He strips off Steve’s shirt and, while he draws him into another kiss, Sam runs his hands over Steve’s chest, cataloguing cuts and bruises.

“They’re nothing,” Steve whispers against his lips.

Sam moves his mouth down to Steve’s throat and sucks and bites until a bruise forms. “That one’s not nothing.”

“You sappy motherfucker,” Steve laughs. “Here I am, trying to get into your pants and you’re being all sweet and adorable.”

“I’m barely in my pants as it is,” Sam teases, and it’s true. The sweats have slipped so low that Steve’s hands have full access to Sam’s ass.

“Let’s help them off, shall we?”

“Not in this kitchen,” Sam insists. “Take me to bed first.”

“Needy,” Steve teases, but he lifts Sam off the counter, pushing his pants fully off at the same time.

“Impatient.”

“You know how I feel about waiting.”

“Don’t fucking use your tragic backstory against me, Rogers. I’m a sure thing anyway.”

“I know,” Steve smiles, kissing Sam lovingly.

He jumps when Sam smacks his ass. “I think the bedroom was mentioned.”

Steve’s bedroom faces the street and has a lovely bay window that he unfortunately has to keep shuttered. The space is dominated by a firm, king size bed, and the rest of the room is filled with bookshelves.

“Bradbury, huh?” Sam asks, moving the book before falling back onto the bed.

“Banner recommended it,” Steve says, dropping his pants on the floor where they’re joined by Sam’s shirt.

Steve steps to the edge of the bed and just looks at Sam. “Fuck,” he whispers in an awed voice.

“That’s the plan,” Sam grins back.

Steve drops to his knees and spreads Sam’s legs.

“Shit man,” Sam groans, and the sound goes straight to Steve’s dick.

He kisses up Sam’s thigh, winding them both tighter and tighter before he sucks Sam into his mouth.

“My God,” Sam hisses.

“‘Captain’ will do,” Steve says, popping off with a grin.

“You’re not as cute as you think you are, Rogers.”

Steve smirks at him again, and then focuses. Sam’s groans get louder and louder, and Steve gets impatient. He pulls away and clambers onto the bed, moving up to Sam’s mouth to kiss him again.

Sam gets a hand on his dick and strokes, and Steve groans into his mouth.

“Will you fuck me?” he asks.

“Are you sure, man?”

“Yes. Please,” Steve pants, rocking down into Sam’s hand.

He groans in pain at a particularly aggressive thrust, and Sam’s face changes instantly from bliss to concern.

“Hey, hey. You okay?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay, well, lie back. I’ve got you.”

Sam maneuvers them around, laying Steve out on his back and stretching out over him. He leans in for a kiss, stroking a hand down Steve’s side and testing again for injuries.

Steve wraps his hands around Sam’s hips and pulls him down. “Come on.”

Sam takes his time, stretching Steve slowly and peppering him liberally with kisses. Steve’s vocabulary shrinks down to Sam’s name and a selection of curse words, and he grabs onto any part of Sam he can reach. Finally, Sam pulls away to find a condom.

“Ready?” he asks, and Steve lets his legs fall wider in answer.

Sam presses in slowly and Steve groans. “Shit. Why don’t we do this more often?”

“Too busy,” Sam huffs, picking up a smooth rhythm.

“We should quit Avenging and just do this.”

Sam laughs and it drives his hips a little deeper inside Steve.

“Fuck! Oh God, touch me. Please.”

“Only cause you asked nice,” Sam says, taking Steve’s dick in hand.

Steve isn’t going to last long, he rarely does when Sam tops. He pulls Sam even closer when his thrusts start to lose rhythm, and they’re kissing as they both come.

Sam pulls away sooner than he might normally have, and Steve mentally curses his broken ribs. He tries to pull Sam back into a kiss, hand curving around Sam’s ass, and Sam chuckles.

“Not so fast, man. I’m gonna get us cleaned up, and then I’m sleeping for at least twelve hours.”

Steve rolls over, resigned for now, but he knows he can change Sam’s mind about that. They’ve got a few days before either of them needs to be back at work, and Steve intends to take full advantage.

 


End file.
